Father and Son
by Jessie Jaina Jinn
Summary: [MTR] You remeber how Wilbur developed a close relationship with Lewis, right? But what was the relationship between Wilbur and Cornelius? This is a story that explores that relationship over the years. This is for Whimsical Sonata's contest. Enjoy!


A/N: Okay, my impression from the movie is that Cornelius never spent as much time with Wilbur as he should have. Here's my take on their relationship.

Cornelius Robinson stood beside his wife, smiling. Just moments before, Franny had been screaming from labor pains. He could still hear it ringing in his ears, but he was happy. Now, they had a son.

The doctor wrapped the baby up and turned to Cornelius.

"Would you like to hold your son, Mr. Robinson?" A grin spread across the new father's face.

"More than you can possibly believe," he said and eagerly took the boy in his arms. The infant blinked at his father. Cornelius saw dark eyes much like Franny's, and saw a little patch of black fuzz on his head. He nearly laughed as he saw his son's confidence already shining in his eyes.

Franny smiled from her hospital bed, happy to see her husband so happy. Gingerly, she took her son from her husband's arms. She smiled down at him.

"And a name?" she whispered, not taking her eyes off her son. Cornelius just grinned. He remembered his son from all those years ago. He knew exactly what to name him.

"Wilbur," he replied simply. Franny glanced up at him.

"Wilbur? Where did Wilbur come from?" Cornelius shrugged.

"Seems like a good, strong name, doesn't it?" Franny just smiled.

"You're right. Alright, Wilbur Robinson it is."

* * *

Four-year-old Wilbur Robinson ran eagerly into his father's lab. He saw Cornelius working diligently at his desk. Smiling widely, he tried his best not to make a sound. Suppressing a giggle, Wilbur approached his father. Only inches away, he covered his mouth to muffle his ever so slight giggles. He slowly reached out his hand, and…

"Hi, Dad!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. Cornelius yelped and jumped in surprise, dropping his tools. He turned to look exasperatedly at his son, only to find Wilbur overcome by laughter.

"I got you good, Dad!" he said, pointing his finger and giggling. Cornelius did not look a bit pleased at his son's joke.

"Wilbur, what do you think you're doing?" he said, raising his voice to an unusually loud volume. Wilbur only heard that tone of voice when he was really in trouble, and it caused him to gulp.

"Sorry, Daddy," he said softly. "It's just, it's my birthday today and I was-" Wilbur was cut off by more of Cornelius's scolding.

"I have to be very careful with this new invention. One slip-up and this whole place could go up in flames! Do you want that to happen, Wilbur? Hmm? Do you want to be the one to cause that to happen?" Cornelius stopped when he saw his son tremble and whimper in sadness and fear. Sighing, the father picked his son up and cradled him. He felt Wilbur grab his shirt and start to cry. With a guilty conscience, Cornelius took his son downstairs and into the kitchen. Franny turned around and smiled, but it immediately turned into a frown when she saw the sight before her. Her husband handed her Wilbur.

"Your son," he said blankly and left the room. Confused and worried, Franny tried desperately to calm her son.

Later, Wilbur sat at the table, his birthday cake in front of him and his whole family surrounding him. Even Spike and Demetri had come out of their flowerpots to join the celebration.

"Make a wish, little buddy," Carl, the robot his father invented to be Wilbur's playmate, said. His father…that suddenly reminded Wilbur. He looked around. Cornelius Robinson was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Daddy?" he said to his mother.

"Oh, your father's busy. Sorry, sweetie, but go ahead, blow out your candles and make a wish." The Robinsons cheered in encouragement. Wilbur closed his eyes, thought of a wish, and blew out his candles.

_I wish I could have my dad back._

* * *

"Robinson, you're up to bat!" Eight-year-old Wilbur Robinson smiled his usual cocky smile and got up to bat. Putting on his batting helmet, he walked towards the plate with a strut. People often commented, usually distastefully, on his arrogance. He had a reputation at school for being a bit of a class clown. Nobody knew that Wilbur only put on this little act to hide his loneliness. At school, Wilbur had no one. At home, sure, he had Carl, but there were no sleepovers, no play dates, no anything. Nobody liked him; even his own father neglected him. Speaking of said father…

Wilbur glanced around the stands. Sure enough, no trace of Cornelius Robinson. Instead, his mother was sitting beside Carl the robot, who was holding up a sign that said "Go, team, go!" Wilbur couldn't help but smile. Then, he turned to the plate and got serious again.

This was the little league championship game. He couldn't mess this up. Bases loaded, two outs, bottom of the ninth…if he hit this just right, they'd win the game. Wilbur gulped. It weighed on his shoulders.

The pitcher wounded up and pitched the ball. Wilbur watched the ball, took the bat, and attempted to hit it.

"Strike one," the umpire declared. Wilbur heard the crowd behind him groan and felt his heart race a little bit faster. The pitcher caught the ball, wounded up, smirked, and threw the ball. Again, Wilbur made an attempt to hit the small leather orb. "Strike two," the umpire shouted a second time. Once again, the crowd groaned.

"C'mon, Robinson, hit the stupid ball!" a fellow teammate, Josh Fisher, shouted from the bench. Wilbur's heart was beating rapidly now. He had to hit this one. He just had to.

Clearly thinking victory belonged to his team, the pitcher gave him a mocking smirk and pitched the ball a third time. This time, though, Wilbur's attempt was a success.

It was like a blur. The ball landed on the far side of the outfield and the opposing team scrambled to get it. Wilbur ran as fast as he could to first base as his teammate on third scored. He rounded to second, still running at top speed. The opposing team was fumbling with the ball as Wilbur's second teammate scored. By the time his third teammate scored, one of the opposing players had a firm grip on the ball and sent it soaring towards home plate. Wilbur had to beat it. Halfway to the plate, he skidded towards it, beating the ball by a quarter of a second.

The crowd cheered, what little of a crowd there was. Wilbur's team ran to him, patting him on the back and cheering him on. Even Fisher gave him two thumbs up. Amidst the cheering team, Wilbur wondered if his father would have been proud of him if he'd seen him today as his mother reached him.

From behind the stands, Cornelius Robinson glanced over the edge of one of the benches. He saw his son being kissed by his mother and being cheered on by his team.

"I'm very proud of you, son," Cornelius said to no one in particular. Smiling, he set off towards home.

* * *

Punching the grass beside him, Wilbur struggled to hold his tears back. Why did he have to go and run his big mouth like that? Why did he have to plan to trick his father into fixing the time machine with a promise he never planned to keep, just to fix the time stream? There could have been some other option, but, no, he chose the one that would hurt his father and new best friend.

Seeing Lewis, his best friend, one of his only friends, choose the Bowler Hat Guy over his friend and future son hurt him beyond words. But he had hurt Lewis…he deserved this.

Wilbur remembered the times his father had favored work over time with his son. Had he deserved all of those times too?

He shook those thoughts from his mind. This was not the time. He had to get his dad back. He had to get Lewis back.

Running back to the house to find Carl, Wilbur muttered, "I'll get you back, Dad."

* * *

Lewis watched helplessly as Wilbur disappeared into the storm.

"Wilbur," he muttered in horror as his best friend and son was erased from existence.

"Wilbur!" No…what had he done? If he hadn't gone with Goob, if he hadn't fixed the Memory Scanner for him, this wouldn't have happened. Wilbur would have been fine.

Lewis ran back into the house. _I'll get you back, Wilbur._

* * *

After returning Lewis to his time, Wilbur walked dully into his house and up to his mother.

"The time stream's fixed," he said blankly. Franny gave him a stern look and pointed upstairs.

"Room. Now." Her son nodded and walked upstairs to his room with no arguments. On the way to his room, he passed his father's lab. Peeking in, he saw Cornelius, drawing up a new idea. Sighing, Wilbur made the rest of his way into his room and shut the door.

Hours later, Wilbur heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said gloomily. Cornelius opened the door and observed his son. Judging by the redness and puffiness around his eyes, Wilbur had been crying, and his usual cockiness was nowhere to be seen. Walking ever so slowly, Cornelius sat on the edge of his son's bed.

"Wilbur," he said softly. After a few moments, Wilbur glanced at him. Cornelius beckoned him over. Wilbur sat up and slid over to his father. As soon as his son was close enough, Cornelius pulled him into a hug.

Surprised, Wilbur tensed up, but soon collapsed into his father's arms and sobbed. Holding his son tightly, as if any moment he might be forced from his arms, Cornelius rubbed Wilbur's back soothingly until the sobs died down.

For a few moments, the two were silent. Finally, Cornelius broke the silence.

"You know what I would do when you were a baby?" Wilbur looked up at his father.

"What?" he asked genuinely curious. Cornelius patted his shoulder.

"I would go into your bedroom and just watch you sleep." Wilbur was surprised. His father actually would take time off inventing to watch him, Wilbur, sleep?

"No way," he blurted out without thinking. This took Cornelius aback.

"Why not?" Wilbur gave him a "don't you know I'm not stupid?" look.

"Because you'd be too busy inventing to take any time off for me." At this, guilt flooded the man. Cornelius's head drooped in shame. Wilbur backed away from his father, just as he whispered, "I was just so happy to have you back." Wilbur froze.

"What?" he said staring at his father, not daring to believe his ears. A single tear slid down his father's face.

"Don't think I don't remember the time you were erased from existence…it still remains vividly in my mind." Wilbur stared at his father, pushing him to say more. "Wilbur, you're my son, my one and only son. If I had lost you like that, I would not only be losing my son, but also my best friend." Anger boiled inside of Wilbur at that.

"Some friend you've been!" he practically shouted at his father. "All these years, ever since I was little, you've been too involved in your work to have time for me!" Cornelius didn't reply immediately.

"That's why I made Carl, so you'd never be alone," he offered softly.

"But Carl's not my dad! You are! Every birthday, I made one wish and one wish only: to have you back again! But, no, you never showed up at my birthdays or events at my school or my baseball games-"

"I was present for one," was Cornelius's guilty reply. Wilbur stopped yelling.

"You what?"

"Your championship game when you were eight. I was watching from behind the stands, and I want you to know Wilbur…" Cornelius looked up at his son. "I was so proud of you that day." Not for the first time in this conversation, Wilbur stared at his father.

"I'm sorry," his father concluded. For a few moments, there was only silence.

"Me too," Wilbur finally said. Cornelius smiled slightly and beckoned his son over. As Wilbur re-approached his father, Cornelius wrapped his arms around the boy. Wilbur slowly returned the hug.

When they broke apart, Wilbur blushed madly, but tried desperately to hide it. He hadn't meant to show so much to his father. Cornelius smiled.

"Too sappy?" Wilbur grinned.

"A little." Cornelius drummed his hands on his lap.

"So…what do you want to do now?" Wilbur considered.

"Well…it's kinda sappy…and cliché…but…you wanna play catch?" he asked, blushing from embarrassment through the whole sentence. Cornelius smiled.

"Sure." Wilbur smiled, but soon frowned as he remembered something.

"We can't," he said. Cornelius cocked his head slightly.

"Why not?" Wilbur his head drooped miserably.

"Mom grounded me for nearly destroying the time stream." Cornelius thought for a moment, then, leaned over to his son.

"We can have Carl sneak us out," he whispered and winked. Wilbur grinned mischievously and grabbed two baseball gloves and a baseball.

"Okay, careful, now." A few moments later, Carl was helping them out the window.

"Thanks, Carl," Wilbur said to the robot. Carl smiled.

"No problem, little buddy!" With both feet firmly on the ground, Wilbur tossed a glove to his dad and ran to the other side of the yard.

"Wilbur Robinson, world famous baseball player, winds up, and the pitch!" Wilbur threw the ball with all the strength he could muster. Cornelius raised his glove and caught the ball.

"Since when are you a famous baseball player?" he asked grinning. Wilbur glared at him.

"Hey, aren't I allowed to have my own fantasy? Just throw the ball, Dad!"

From the living room window, Franny could see her husband and son clearly. For once, they both looked genuinely happy. Despite the fact that she had grounded her son, Franny exited the living room to rehearse with her frogs, as if she hadn't seen anything.

* * *

"Wilbur Robinson." Wilbur stopped playing with the tassel on his mortarboard and stepped up on the stage. He took his diploma and shook the man's hand. Whoever thought that Wilbur Robinson would ever graduate high school?

Wilbur glanced at the crowd, scanning it for his family. Sure enough, there were the Robinsons. Grandpa Bud, Grandma Lucille, Fritz, Petunia, Joe (somehow pulled from his TV), Billie, Spike, Demetri, Gaston, Art, Carl, Mom, and…Dad?

Wilbur's eyes widened when he saw his father. Cornelius smiled at him and winked. Wilbur grinned and stepped off stage.

After the ceremony, Wilbur hugged his girlfriend, who then ran off to her own family, and let himself be kissed by his mother when she reached him.

"Oh, honey, we're so proud of you," Franny said, hugging her son. "I can't believe you're all grown up." Awkwardly, Wilbur patted his mother's back.

"Well, look at it this way, Mom, you won't have to worry about me destroying anything else in the house," he offered. Franny just smiled and kissed her son again before turning it over to Cornelius.

Cornelius smiled and walked over to his son, wrapping his arms around him. Wilbur hugged his father back.

"No hiding behind the stands this time?" he teased, grinning. Cornelius smiled.

"Not this time," he assured his son.

As they pulled away, Wilbur asked, "Why did you hide behind the stands, anyway?" Cornelius shrugged.

"It seemed appropriate. Now," he started and leaned to the side a little, "I think you're wanted." Turning, Wilbur saw his girlfriend re-approaching him. He and his father shared a grin before Wilbur turned and caught her in his arms.

* * *

Cornelius looked up as Wilbur came out of the hospital room. Smiling, Wilbur approached him, carrying a baby in his arms.

"Hey, Dad, wanna hold your grandson?" Eagerly, Cornelius nodded and took the baby in his arms. Looking at his grandson, he saw Wilbur's brown eyes and some blonde fuzz on his head. Cornelius looked up at his son. Wilbur grinned.

"We figured he got his hair from you." Cornelius smiled.

"Does he have a name?" Wilbur's grin grew.

"Yup. We named him Lewis." Taken aback, Cornelius gaped slightly at his son, but then smiled, feeling his heart warm.

"Wilbur…?" a voice came from the hospital room. Wilbur looked back and then at his father again.

"I think my wife wants her son back," he said, smiling sheepishly. Grinning, Cornelius handed Lewis back to Wilbur. Smiling, Wilbur disappeared

* * *

Sadly, Wilbur looked at the tombstone. A couple of years ago, Cornelius Robinson was killed in an experiment gone wrong. Wiping a tear from his eye, Wilbur leaned forth and put a rose on top on the grave.

"Daddy?" Wilbur looked down to Lewis, who was holding his father's hand.

"What is it, Lewis?"

"Is Grampa in heaven?" Wilbur didn't answer immediately. He had never really believed in any religion.

"Why do you ask?"

"I heard that when you die, you go to heaven. Is that where Grampa is?" Wilbur smiled at his son.

"I bet he is up there." Lewis giggled.

"I bet he's inventing something." Wilbur ruffled his son.

"And what would he be inventing, sport?"

"Who knows?" Laughing, Wilbur squeezed his hand.

"C'mon, sport, let's go home." Before turning, he looked at the grave one more time and muttered, "See ya later, Dad." Then, he turned and walked with Lewis back to the car.

A/N: …I don't like how this came out. I wanted to explore their relationship over the years, but I don't think I did a good job. Oh, well. Sorry if some parts are really cliché and cheesy, but they seemed appropriate. Whimsical Sonata, I wrote this for your contest, so, I hope you at least like it a little.

Update: A/N: Okay, I can't lie to myself any longer. I am very proud of this story. There I said. Now, I can rest easy. This is probably all irrelevant to you, so, sorry. I just couldn't keep that to myself any longer.


End file.
